


From Eden

by theghostofriverphoenix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theghostofriverphoenix/pseuds/theghostofriverphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I rewrote the episode after the holiday break to suit my own purposes. None of this should be taken seriously, as it is clearly the kind of drivel that only a fangirl can produce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Eden

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on AO3 anonymously for quite some time. Here I am, and here is my two cents on what should have happened:
> 
> This episode is called “From Eden” and it takes place immediately after the mid-season finale, 10.09 “The Things We Left Behind.”
> 
> It has a soundtrack, and this is it:
> 
> seven nation army- the white stripes  
> walk on the wild side – lou reed  
> elastic heart – sia ft. the weeknd & diplo  
> you’ve got the love (live @ royal albert hall) – florence & the machine  
> from eden – hozier  
> alive – chase & status ft. jacob banks
> 
> I don't own these characters. I think Eric Kripke does. Anyway. It's a celebration, bitches.

“Previously, on Supernatural…”

“THE ROAD SO FAR” montage. Shots of Dean going berserk and kicking people’s asses from previous episodes. The soundtrack is “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes. “All the words are gonna bleed from me, and I will think no more…”

“Tell me you didn’t have to do this… tell me it was them or you,” Sam pleads. The screen goes black. “NOW…”

.

At Randy’s house.

Cas takes Claire outside. She is understandably horrified and shocked by what has just transpired. She’s stopped crying altogether, and silently obeys Cas as he leads her to the car.

“Wait here,” he instructs her, guiding her into the Impala’s shotgun seat. “Sam will keep you safe. You can trust him.” In response, she just stares vaguely out the window. “I’ll see you soon,” he promises her, squeezing her hand—a human gesture he’d found to be comforting, when he’d been one. This evokes a reaction: she looks at him, focusing her eyes on his.

“Okay,” she agrees, gripping his hand tight in return. He smiles at her—another human gesture he’s picked up. He’s trying to seem reassuring.

Cas is back in the house in a moment. “Sam, take Claire to the bunker. We’ll meet you there,” he says as he crosses the room. He steps over warm bodies to crouch beside a stunned Dean, who doesn’t seem to notice him, or even to know what planet he’s on. Sam stares at his brother with intense concern: he doesn’t want to leave.

“I’ve got him. Go,” Cas orders, and Sam concedes. If anyone can keep his brother from harm better than he can, it’s Cas, after all. He nods at the angel before heading out the door.

Dean’s still dazed. There’s blood dripping into his eyes: is it his, or someone else’s? He’s not sure. There’s a massive ringing in his ears, so he hardly hears Cas when he says, “I’m taking you home…”

Then Cas’s hand is on his face, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. Dean feels like he’s in a dream. There’s that wrenching, hollow, falling sensation in his stomach that usually happens when Cas flies him somewhere. Bright lights seem to swirl around him, and then an overwhelming sensation of vertigo kicks in. It’s too much. He closes his eyes.

.

The Impala, on the road.

Sam finds Claire waiting silently in the front seat of the car. He slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. Dean’s music blares through the speakers. He quickly shuts it off.

“Uh, buckle up?” he offers, and Claire wipes the smeared makeup around her eyes on the back of her sleeve. “Here,” he says, reaching over to open the glove compartment, handing her a napkin from inside. “Thanks,” she says, and wipes her nose. Sam pulls the car away from the curb and away from the nightmare inside the house.

They drive in silence for a while. Suburbs give way to freeways, and the only thing to look at is the lights on the trucks that pass in the other lane. The silence gets too uncomfortable so Claire asks, “Where are we going, anyway?”

Sam considers describing the bunker: the Men of Letters, how they found it, but he’s too distracted. He just wants to get there as quickly as possible. So he says: “Someplace safe.” He’s not looking at her.

She rolls her eyes. “Thanks. That really clears things up a lot,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm that does not go undetected by Sam.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I don’t mean to brush you off. I’m just worried about my brother…”

Claire, following Sam’s lead, doesn’t look at him. Her gaze is fixed out the front window. “He killed all those people,” she says, tentatively, as if she’s trying to confirm the reality of it to herself.

“That… isn’t a normal thing,” he says, defensive. “He’s not a monster. It’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t want to go into the whole “Mark of Cain” story with her right now, either. “Dean has… issues,” is what he winds up saying. “He’s been through some stuff.”

Claire rolls her eyes again. She says, “Who hasn’t?”

Sam thinks she’s got a good point.

.

The bunker. Dean’s room.

Dean comes to in his own bed. Cas is next to him. As soon as he gets his bearings, he slides out of bed, backs against the wall. He remembers everything.

“I slaughtered those people,” he says, and is surprised by how pathetic his voice sounds. It comes out like a question, and the solemn expression on Cas’s face confirms the truth of it. Dean sags to the floor. His head drops to his knees and his fingers twist themselves into knots at the back of his neck. He feels like screaming, but no sound comes out of him.

The angel kneels in front of him once again, gently freeing Dean’s clenched hands, lifting his jaw until he’s forced to look into Cas’s eyes.

“My mission, when I came here, was to protect you,” Cas says softly, his expression full of pity.

This irritates Dean. He grabs Cas’s hand and pulls it away from his face. “I’m not your problem, Cas. And by the way—we had a deal. I get out of control, you smite me. Remember?” His voice sounds harsh, even angry, now. His breath is coming in quick gasps. He realizes he’s gripping Cas’s hand too hard and lets go.

“Cas, please.” He’s begging, now, and he doesn’t care how desperate he sounds. “I can’t live with this...”

Cas, looking into his eyes, smiles: a human gesture he’d first learned from Dean. Dean is confused and annoyed. “Why the hell are you smiling?”

“Because we’ve had this conversation before,” Cas answers, still grinning. “Sort of—only backwards. Naomi ordered me to kill you, and I was going to. Until… do you remember what you said to me?”

Dean remembers, but his vocal chords don’t seem to be working properly right now, so he simply nods.

“You said, ‘We’re family.’ You said, ‘I need you.’”

Dean nods again, in agreement. He can’t seem to break his eye contact with Cas.

“Something changed in me when you said that. Naomi’s spell was broken. Do you know why?”

Dean shakes his head “no.”

“It’s because, in that moment, something became clear to me. You may need me, Dean Winchester, but has it occurred to you that I also might need you?”

Dean, judging by the non-reaction on his face, doesn’t seem to comprehend the gravity of what Cas is attempting to confess to him. Cas, frustrated, resorts to another, more human method of conveying what he means. He leans closer and kisses Dean on the mouth. 

.

The Impala. On the road.

Sam’s speeding. Claire’s bored. She asks, “Can we put the music back on?”

Sam had almost forgotten she was there. “What? Sure,” he says. He hits a knob on the dash and “Walk On The Wild Side” plays through the Impala’s speakers. 

Claire looks out the window, then at Sam. “What’s this?” She indicates the tape.

“Oh, uh… it’s Dean’s music. Lou Reed.”

He doesn’t look away from the road. She’s studying him, and he hasn’t even noticed. What she sees: his brow is knit and his knuckles are clenched on the wheel. “Are you all right?” she ventures.

Sam laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

He finally turns his head to look at her, and Claire half-smiles at him. Then she shrugs. “It’s an adventure,” she says. “This, I mean. And life in general. I learned that when my dad got abducted by an angel: you can’t predict what’s gonna happen to you. All you can do is try to have a good time when you can, before everything goes to shit again.”

Sam had been holding a grudge against Claire, on account of being held at gunpoint by her earlier in the evening. Now, she’s starting to grow on him. “I like this song,” she says, leaning her head against the window. She’s looking up at the stars that burn bright in the sky above them. Sam presses down on the gas pedal, urging the Impala homeward ever faster.

.

The bunker: Dean’s bedroom.

At first, Dean gives in to Cas’s touch. His fingers card through the angel’s hair, but only for a moment—and then he seems to remember something. His brow furrows, and he pushes Cas away. “What are you doing?” he demands.

“I… wanted to comfort you,” Cas admits truthfully.

“By kissing me?” Dean asks, incredulous. He’s holding Cas at arm’s length, literally.

“I hoped you’d like it. Obviously, I was wrong. My apologies,” Cas answers, staring pointedly at the floor.

“Not wrong. You just… caught me off guard,” Dean explains after a moment, and Cas looks up at him, smiling faintly, hopefully. At the sight, the expression on Dean’s face fades into deeper despair. His grip on Cas weakens. His arm drops to his side.

“Dean—what’s wrong?” Cas wishes he had enough angel juice to read Dean’s mind right now, but flying here has severely depleted his powers. He’ll have to rely on human methods, for the moment.

Dean sighs. “You nailed it, Cas. First time we met, you said it: I don’t think I deserve to be saved, and this proves it. I don’t. I’m a monster—I’m out of control. I’m not worth it. You kissing me is only gonna make it harder for you to kill me, and you have to kill me. Sammy won’t be able to.”

“We’re going to find a way to save you,” Cas assures him. “Nobody is killing anybody.”

Dean doesn’t believe him, but he allows Cas to lead him back to his bed, and Cas folds him under the covers. He feels his friend gently press two fingers to his temple, and then he’s blissfully asleep.

.

The Impala.

Claire is looking at the stars. When the tape ends, she sorts through Dean’s collection. “I haven’t seen a tape deck since I was five,” she tells Sam, sliding another cassette into the dashboard. “My dad used to have one in his old car.”

“This is my dad’s old car,” Sam says, and she laughs.

“And where is he?” she asks.

“He’s dead.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. He was a good guy.”

Claire is silent for a moment, remembering her own father, before he left. She thinks about how she used to hold Castiel and the Winchesters responsible for taking him away from her, and how much she had hated them. This time, however, they seem different—they’ve saved her three times in the last 24 hours. Perhaps her worst enemies have become her friends. Crazier things have happened to her before, after all.

“You and your brother… what are you, exactly? Angel bodyguards?” she asks.

Sam laughs. “Sort of. Basically. We’re hunters,” he clarifies, but she has no idea what he means.

“Like shooting deer?”

“Not really,” says Sam. “We hunt bad things… demons. Werewolves. Vampires. You name it.”

She’s genuinely impressed. “Cool.”

Their conversation is cut off when police lights flash in the Impala’s rear window. Sam’s still been speeding. “Shit,” he curses, pulling over. “I’ll do the talking,” he instructs Claire.

The police officer asks for their identification. He asks where they’re headed, and Sam hesitates. He’s still preoccupied. Claire takes control of the situation. “He’s my brother. Well, my half-brother. He’s taking me to visit colleges. He wanted me to go to his school, but I’m too stupid to get in there.”

The officer laughs. “And where is that?”

“Stanford,” says Sam. Claire shrugs good-naturedly. The police officer lets them go with a warning.

“Nice work,” says Sam, impressed by her improvisation.

As they pull back onto the road, Claire asks, “Did you really go to Stanford?”

“Yeah,” he answers.

“Wow. You must be real smart,” she says, and Sam can’t tell if she’s teasing him or not.

“Maybe. I dropped out, though, so maybe not.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Other things got in the way.”

“Like, demon things?” Claire asks.

“Like demon things,” confirms Sam.

Claire sighs. “Demon things can definitely screw up your life.”

“That’s one of the reasons I decided leave. To fight back,” says Sam.

“You’ll have to teach me how, then,” she says, yawning, looking out the window again. The Impala chases the horizon, and eventually the rolling landscape that passes in the predawn light lulls Claire to sleep.

.

Morning: the bunker.

Sam pulls the Impala into the hidden garage as the sun starts to rise. He leads Claire inside, depositing her into his own bed for lack of another one available. She immediately falls back to sleep. In the kitchen, while he makes coffee, he confers with Cas. Dean is passed out in his room. When he wakes, they agree, he will not be allowed to leave the bunker under any circumstances until they find a way to remove the mark. Sam takes his coffee into the library and they set themselves to the task of finding a way to save his brother.

Hours pass. They pour over the books in the massive Men of Letters library in search of answers. So far, they have been unsuccessful. Eventually Claire wanders in, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Where are we?” She’s looking at the ancient books piled around them. “Did we travel through time? Into... a library?”

“Kind of,” Sam says, laughing. “It’s this secret society’s bunker from back in the day. We found it. And now we live here,” he says, matter-of-factly. Then he yawns. “I’m beat,” he says, still yawning. “I’m going to catch a few hours. There’s coffee,” he tells her, nodding toward the kitchen, before exiting toward his room.

Cas and Claire are left alone with the books. “What’re you doing?” Claire asks awkwardly.

“Research,” Cas answers. “Trying to find a way to get Dean out of the mess he’s in.”

Claire crosses her arms around herself, hugging them to her chest. “Can I help?”

“Of course,” Cas says, watching her as she joins him at the book-laden table. “Are you all right?” he asks her, genuinely concerned.

Claire considers him. He looks just like her father. The freaky part is, he hasn’t aged at all—it’s the same face she remembers from when she was younger. He’s the exact same Dad she remembers, but he’s not her dad at all. She looks into his eyes.

“I miss my father,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says, and she hears the regret in his voice. “I wish I could change things, Claire, but I can’t. It’s too late. I’m sorry.”

He seems so broken, and nothing like the powerful being Claire remembers. She had expected to fear him. Right now, she mostly pities him.

“It’s not too late,” she tells him, attempting to feign confidence. “We can still save Dean, at least. What’s wrong with him? What’re we looking for?” She flips through the pages of the nearest book.

Cas is reminded of the reasons why he loves humans once again as he watches her fingers slip through the pages. Her optimism, despite her circumstances, astounds him. “The Mark of Cain,” he tells her. “More specifically—how to remove it,” he clarifies. “It looks like this.” He shows her a picture in a book that’s open on the table.

“Got it,” she says. “I’m gonna go get some coffee, and then we’re going to figure out a way to save your boy.”

Cas is taken aback. “He’s not my—“

Claire cuts him off. “You’ve been in my head, remember? Well, it goes both ways. I know you’d do anything for him. You helped me back there,” she says, nodding her head to vaguely indicate yesterday’s events. “The least I can do is return the favor,” she says, hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie. “I’ll be right back,” she says, before he can reply.

She returns with hot coffee that’s mostly cream and sugar in hand. He’s engrossed in a book. “I need background information,” she says, sitting down across from him.

“The Mark of Cain--” starts Cas, looking up at her, but she stops him with a wave of her hand.

“I mean before that. How did you meet Dean?”

“What? That’s not important.“ 

But she raises her eyebrow at him and sips her coffee, waiting, and he sighs, and starts at the beginning. “Sam--- he was killed. Stabbed in the back. Dean made a deal with a demon: his soul, in exchange for his brother’s. I retrieved him from Hell, on orders from higher-ranking angels…”

Cas gives her a brief overview of the escapades of Team Free Will. Claire is a good listener. She memorizes everything he tells her, and she’s finding it harder and harder to hate Cas and the Winchesters for screwing up her life. They were just trying to do the right thing, usually, but the odds seem to be stacked against them always. They’re just doing their best to survive, like she is…

They search through stacks of books for the information they need. Hours pass in silence. Through the books, Claire learns a lot about angels and demons. This bunker’s library is clearly an arsenal of information. The Winchesters are lucky to have found this place, she thinks—and she’s probably lucky to have ended up here, too, for that matter.

Eventually Dean materializes from his room. Cas smiles at him. “How did you sleep?” he asks.

“Fine, thanks,” Dean answers. “Hello, Claire,” he adds, nodding at her. “What’re you two up to?”

“Trying to find a way to save your ass,” Claire says, but she’s smiling at him affectionately, so Dean isn’t offended. He’s actually pretty relieved that, apparently, she isn’t terrified of him. “You hungry?” he asks her.

“Yeah,” she admits, and he goes off to the kitchen to make something for them to eat. Sam reappears, roused by the sound of their voices. The three of them eat grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup, prepared by Dean.

They give up on research for the rest of the day. Dean puts “Lord of the Rings” on the DVD player and collapses onto the couch.

Sam and Claire are in the kitchen. Sam cracks open a beer for himself from the fridge, one for Dean, and a third for Cas. “Got one of those for me?” Claire asks.

“How old are you, anyway?” Sam asks, still holding the refrigerator door open.

“Umm… 21?” answers Claire, grinning sheepishly.

“Yeah, right,” says Sam, and grabs another beer anyway. “Just this once,” he says, opening it for her.

They rejoin Cas and Dean, now sitting next to each other on the couch. Sam distributes beers to them before sitting down on the only armchair, leaving Claire to join Cas and Dean on the couch. Neither Cas nor Claire has seen this movie before, and both of them enjoy it immensely.

As the end credits of the first movie roll, and after two beers, Claire is asleep, resting against Cas’s shoulder and snoring softly. They cover her with blankets, turn down the lights, and retreat to their rooms. Cas follows Dean, of course.

.

Dean’s bedroom.

Upon entering his room, Dean immediately spins to face Cas. “We need to talk.” He seems angry.

Cas had anticipated this, and he’s already prepared an apology. “I overstepped my bounds, earlier. I‘m sorry... it won’t happen again.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, as if offended. “Don’t say that,” he says, and flashes that familiar smoldering look that makes Cas’s knees feel weak.

Cas is confused. He squints his eyes and tilts his head at Dean.

“I meant, we need to talk about this,” Dean clarifies. He rolls his shirtsleeve back to display the ugly mark on his arm. “I can’t sit around here watching movies and playing house. I told you: I’m dangerous. This won’t last long before something goes wrong.”

“We’ll find a way,” Cas says, and he realizes he’s starting to sound like what humans call a “broken record.”

“You say that,” counters Dean, “but I know you. And I know you’re only saying it to protect me—whether you actually believe it or not. But I’m telling you: I’m past needing protection. I’m a monster. I’ve become something I would have wanted to hunt…”

Cas interrupts, using his favorite word: “Dean…”

Dean deflates, looking into deep sea-blue eyes. His shoulders sag and he sighs, weary. His gaze shifts to the floor.

Cas crosses the space between them and enfolds Dean’s face in his hands, bringing their eyes to meet again. “You are no such thing, Dean Winchester,” he assures him. “Somehow, I’ll find a way to prove it to you.”

He kisses him again, and this time it’s smoother, easier—it feels right. Dean’s mouth tastes like beer and whiskey. Cas’s tastes like electricity.

Cue typical Supernatural makeout scene, only this time, starring our favorite boys. Montage of shirts off, hands on skin, fingers in hair, faces close together—the usual. The soundtrack is “From Eden” by Hozier: “Innocence died screaming/Honey, ask me, I should know/I slithered here from Eden/just to sit outside your door...”

Fade to black so you can assume whatever the hell you want. But the next scene, as per typical Supernatural style, reveals our dudes in Dean’s bed together, and nobody is wearing any clothes, so something has obviously gone down. Pun intended.

Pillow talk time. Dean is smiling. Cas hasn’t seen him happy in ages. A warmth, or energy flows back into him, at the sight.

After the initial bliss wears off, however, and Dean’s heartbeat and breathing return to a normal pace, his expression becomes grim once again. “There’s no way you’re gonna be able to smite me now, is there?”

Cas wants to smack some sense into him- a human reaction to frustration, he realizes, that he’s probably picked up from Dean. “You think this changes things?” he snaps, gesturing between them to indicate the present. “We’re already bound together, Dean. We have been for a long time.” His hand comes to rest on the burn on Dean’s arm—a handprint. His handprint.

“I fell in love with you then,” Cas says softly, matter-of fact. “Nothing has changed since.”

Dean smiles, sort of embarrassed, his face and ears feeling hot. Cas continues.

“I’ll find a way to get you out of this, no matter what it takes. I promise.”

Dean’s hesitant. “Okay. But promise me this: do not let me out of your sight until this is over with. I don’t trust myself, but I trust you. Please don’t let me hurt Sammy or Claire…”

Cas promises.

Dean falls asleep. Cas, true to his word, doesn’t stir. He lays entangled in Dean’s arms all night wide-awake, of course. He searches his memories for something that might help him save his friend.

.

Morning: the bunker.

Sammy’s still half-asleep when he wanders into the common room to find Claire already researching, her nose close to the pages of a huge old book. At Sam’s appearance, she looks up.

“Sleep well? I made coffee… I hope that’s okay,” she says.

“Of course it’s okay,” Sam answers, smiling at her. “Make yourself comfortable here—for as long as you want. We can set up a room for you, if you like,” he adds.

“Cool,” says Claire, grateful for the offer. Sam goes to the kitchen and returns with coffee.

“Find anything?” he asks, sitting at the table across from her. Daylight streams through the bunker’s skylights onto the books piled around them.

“There’s some stuff about the mark itself,” Claire answers, “but never any mention of how to get rid of it.”

Sam sighs. “I guess we’ll just have to keep looking.”

Claire’s bites her lip, looking at him like she wants to say something. “What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she answers. “Well… I don’t know. I was just thinking…”

Sam seems genuinely interested in her input, so she goes on.

“Before Cas… took over me? When I was a kid. A couple days before that, I was riding my bike. I cut a turn too fast, and I crashed. I skidded across the pavement… my knee was totally banged up, bloody and swollen and everything. Anyway, after the thing with Cas, after you guys left, I looked down—my knee was completely healed. Good as new, just like that. It could only have been Cas.”

Sam is still listening, seemingly taking her seriously. Adults usually ignore her. This gives her the confidence she needs to suggest her idea.

“I was thinking… what if Cas took over Dean? Like, possessed him, or whatever? He healed my busted knee. Maybe he can heal Dean, too.”

Sam is stunned. They’ve been searching through all these books, and maybe the answer has been in front of them all along. He’s glad Claire picked up on something that was clearly in his own blind spot.

Cas and Dean appear. “Claire, tell them what you just told me,” Sam says.

She repeats her idea. Dean is against it, of course. Cas can already read his mind. He’d like to keep whatever secrets he has left to himself.

Cas, on the other hand, is thoughtful. “There are complications,” he says, rubbing the perpetual rough stubble on his chin with his fingers—a human gesture he’s learned, Dean notes. Cas continues.

“I’m not sure this vessel can survive without a soul inside it. Like I told Claire,” he says, looking at her sadly, “Jimmy Novak is gone. Without me inside it, this vessel may cease to exist.”

Dean looks horrified. Claire hugs her arms tightly across her chest, and her solemn gaze matches Sam’s expression as they look at Cas.

The angel smiles at them, and shrugs: a very human gesture he learned from them, his best friends.

“On the other hand, it might work out just fine.” He’s looking at Dean. “It’s definitely worth a try,” he finishes.

Dean frowns at him. “You’re not sacrificing yourself for me, Cas.”

Cas’s expression remains reverent, steadfastly staring into his friend’s green eyes. “I promised you I would get you out of this. Trust me.”

Dean can’t help it. “I do.”

.

Dean’s bedroom.

Cas and Dean sit cross-legged across from each other on Dean’s bed. Claire and Sam stand by the door, both of them watching, waiting, and feeling helpless and useless in this endeavor.

“I need contact for this to work,” Cas tells Dean. “Whatever happens, don’t let go of me until I say.” He’s close—their foreheads are inches apart. Cas grasps Dean’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. Dean nods his agreement.

It’s hard to tear his eyes away from Dean’s, but Cas glances toward Sam. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” he admits. “Stay back, just to be safe.” He nods at Claire, who looks fearful, but she nods back at him, trying to seem calmer and braver than she feels.

Cas turns back to face Dean. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Dean leans his forehead against Cas’s. “If this doesn’t work, Cas, I just wanted to let you know…” He’s murmuring, quiet, and only Cas can hear him.

Cas hushes him. “Tell me after this is over,” he whispers, and his eyes shine so brilliantly that once again Dean can’t help but trust him. He nods at Cas, tightens his grip on the angel’s hands, and holds on.

At first, it seems to Sam and Claire like nothing is happening. Dean, however, experiences an electric current linking him and Cas that he has felt vaguely before, but never this intensely. He feels like it’s burning him alive.

He’d known Cas was powerful, but this is nuts. He can see in a multitude of dimensions he’d previously been unaware of. Time feels infinite, in this moment, and he realizes how stupid he’d been to try to hide his feelings for Cas for so long. Timelessness forces this realization upon him: there is no better time than now…

He can hear colors. He senses his bother’s presence, and Claire’s, although he isn’t even looking at them. Right now, he only has eyes for Cas.

Dean can somehow hear Sam and Claire praying for their safety. Then Cas speaks to him, and suddenly everything else seems muted, out of focus, in slow motion…

“I need your permission to do this, Dean,” Cas tells him.

“Of course,” Dean whispers, and he’s smiling. He’s faking it—he’s terrified, and Cas knows this, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s bravado is part of the reason Cas fell in love with him in the first place.

Claire and Sam witness the pair clutching each other on the bed for a moment. Then there’s a blinding flash of light that seems to come both from Cas and Dean and from nowhere at once.

A terrible, high-pitched, otherworldly whining sound fills the room, and Claire covers her ears. The noise seems to intensify as Cas collapses against Dean, into his arms. Dean, as promised, doesn’t release his grip on the angel’s hand.

Sam’s watching intently. There’s a strange, unfamiliar glow in his brother’s eyes when he warns, “Get back!”

Sam shields Claire’s body with his just in time. Seconds later, an invisible force that hits him like a semi truck breaks everything glass in the room. Picture frames, the face of his watch, the screens on their cell phones, and Dean’s whiskey bottle and glass on the nightstand all explode in an instant. Light bulbs, too—the room is immersed in inky blackness. Claire is too afraid to scream.

A moment passes in silence, and Claire wonders if maybe they all exploded and she is dead, now. Then she hears Sam breathing close to her. “Claire? Are you all right?” His voice seems to echo in the darkness. She fumbles in her pocket, and retrieves a lighter that she carries as a habit, because it’s easier to make friends when you have a light.

The flame clicks into existence and Sam’s face glows close to hers. Wordlessly, Sam takes the lighter from her and crosses the room toward Dean and Cas, who are motionless, collapsed in each other’s arms. Sam looks at them, and back at Claire, and she feels like crying. Silently, she’s praying to Cas, or to whoever will listen—“Come back safe,” she pleads. “This is the closest thing to a family I’m gonna get, I think. I’ve only just met them. Please don’t take them away…”

Dean can hear her. His eyes snap open. He gasps for air. Sam is at his side in an instant.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

Sam’s concerned expression shows in the dim light thrown by the lighter. “I’m okay,” Dean reassures his little brother. He returns his attention to Cas, who still hasn’t moved.

Dean shakes him. No response. “Cas?” His voice cracks. Claire cries for them, silently, in the dark.

Minutes seem like hours as they pass. Dean calls to Cas, and no answer comes. To Claire, he seems dead. She buries her face in Sam’s chest, and he wraps his arms around her.

“Dean,” he starts, but Dean cuts him off instantly.

“He’s fine.” Then, quietly, he speaks to Cas. “You promised me, Cas. You said you wouldn’t leave me until this is over. Well, it’s not over until I say it is. I still need you,” he pleads. He’s crying. Tears fall onto the angel’s face, and still he doesn’t move.

Dean wipes his eyes with the back of one hand. His face is inches from Cas when he continues, his voice barely above a whisper: “I need you, Cas. I love you…”

His free hand brushes a stray lock of hair away from Cas’s face, and finally Cas stirs, leaning slightly into Dean’s touch.

“Cas?” Dean’s wide-eyed, clutching his friend more tightly than ever.

Cas’s eyes open, and Claire looks up from her hiding spot. Intense relief washes over her, and her tears become tears of happiness.

Dean crouches over Cas, presses their foreheads together, running his hands through the angel’s hair again and again because he’s been given another chance, and he still can. He’s speechless. All he can do is smile.

Cas’s hand stops his, and he pulls it away from him to look at it. Dean’s gaze follows his. The mark is gone. The flesh where it once was is smooth. Cas runs his fingers lightly over it.

“It worked,” he says. “How do you feel?”

“Better than new,” says Dean, still grinning.

He leans forward and kisses Cas gently on the lips. Sam and Claire’s eyes widen, but neither one of them is shocked. Obviously.

Fade out: Sam and Claire watch as Dean and Cas clutch each other on Dean’s bed, happy to have another day to enjoy each other’s company. Roll end credits, to the tune of “Alive” by Chase & Status. “All my troubles are gone with the wind/it’s just me and the ground beneath my feet/I feel so alive…”

.


End file.
